— a small clockworks, on the edge of the woods —

Time, dear reader,
is the only thing we make
by hand.

Once upon a time, in a town where the river bends three times before it remembers the sea, there lived an old clockmaker who had quite forgotten how old he was, and quite refused to be reminded. He kept a workshop above a baker's, and when the bread came out at five in the morning, his hands were already moving — for the hours, you see, do not wait for anyone, not even the man who makes them.

This is his shop. Everything in it was made by him, and is meant to be kept until it is given to someone who will keep it next.

— as told by the wind that blows past his window

III IX

— from the workshop, this season —

The Hours, for sale.

Each piece is made one at a time. When a thing is sold, another is begun in its place. The wait is sometimes long. The thing is always worth it.

The Mantel of Hours

A small clock of brass and walnut, with a chime that sounds like a bell heard from across a meadow. Eight-day movement; winds with a key kept in the drawer.

$880

The Pocketwatch of Tobias Hour

Hand-wound, with a hunter case that snaps closed in a manner the watchmaker calls "firm but unhurried." Engraved to your initials, no extra charge.

$1,420

The Hourglass, Three-Minutes

Sand from the western shore where the cliffs are red. Three minutes precisely — long enough for a soft-boiled egg, or a difficult thought.

$140

The Sundial, Garden Pattern

Cast brass on a slab of slate, marked for 47°N latitude (let the watchmaker know yours, and he'll cast a different one). Tells time only when the sun consents.

$320

The Astrolabe, Apprentice Edition

A simplified bronze astrolabe, accurate enough to find your latitude on a clear night, beautiful enough to hang on a wall in the meantime.

$560

The Hours-Bell, Solid Brass

A small mantelpiece bell that can be struck on the hour — softly, by hand, by anyone in the room who feels the moment ought to be marked.

$95

The Carriage Clock, For the Road

Five panels of beveled glass in a brass frame, with a folding handle and a hand-wound movement that runs sixty hours. The alarm is, in the clockmaker's words, "too polite to wake anyone who truly needed sleep."

$680

The Music Box Clock, Quarterly Air

A mantelpiece clock that plays music. The clockmaker composed the air himself. A glass window in the walnut case lets you watch the cylinder turn. Plays a phrase on the quarter, the full air on the hour.

$1,100

The Fabergé Egg, Miniature Clock

Cloisonné enamel over brass, standing on three garnet-set jeweled feet. Opens on a gold-filled hinge to reveal a miniature clock face no larger than a thumbnail. Each egg is, in the clockmaker's words, "its own argument."

$3,800

How the Old Clockmaker Came to Make Time

Now, as the story has always been told, the clockmaker was once a young man — though he scarcely remembered it — and he had a teacher, who was older still, and who said to him on the day he was sent away with his tools: "the hours, my boy, are not yours. They are only borrowed. Make them so well that they may be returned with interest."

And so he made them. He made an hour for a bride who waited too long for a soldier; the hour was kind, and went quickly. He made an hour for a girl who was learning to read; the hour was patient, and held its breath. He made an hour for a man who could not sleep; the hour was soft, and asked no questions.

He made — over many years, more than he could count — every kind of hour a person might need. And when at last someone asked him whether he was not tired of it all, he looked up from his bench, and he said: "a man who makes time, dear soul, has no time to be tired."

He has been at the bench ever since. The shop is open whenever you find it. The hours, of course, will be ready when they are.

— and that, as they say, is the way of it.

— a small handful of letters —

From those who came before.

"The mantel clock arrived in three layers of paper and a fourth of straw, with a note in handwriting I could not read but understood completely. It is now the loudest quiet thing in our house."

Mrs. E. Harrowgate · two winters of ownership

"I bought the pocketwatch for a grandfather who was hard to please, and easy to love. He turned it over in his hand for a long time and said only: 'this fellow knows what he's doing.' He did not, in fact, often say so."

Mr. T. Vandeer · one Christmas Eve, kept

"My hourglass is for thinking. The sand is patient. Sometimes I turn it over once. Sometimes three times. Sometimes I let it run all the way and forget what I was thinking about, which is, I have come to believe, the entire point."

A. Mockingbird · letter postmarked from a town with no name

— what we promise to those who wait —

Three small certainties.

✦

Made by hand

Every piece is built one at a time, by the same set of hands. There is no second set.

✦

Repaired forever

If the watch you bought from us in 1972 stops, we will fix it. We will not ask why. We will not charge much.

✦

Boxed with a note

Hand-written, with the recipient's name spelled correctly because we asked twice. The pen is a fountain pen. The ink takes a moment to dry.

Time, dear reader,is the only thing we makeby hand.